Faking It With The Boss: Book Three: Rockson Bay Series

By Jane Anne

Margo has been living a lie for nearly a year. She has kept the true nature of her marriage to her husband Lawson a secret from the world so she could finally own the one thing that makes her happy. She only has three more months until she can finally be free.

But over fall where everything changes in Rockson Bay, events outsid

• Language: English
• Publisher: Red Apple Publishing House
• Release date: Jan 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9780645399622

Book preview

One

The crisp orange and brown leaves crunched under Margo’s feet as she briskly strode along the footpath on her way to the theatre. There was a slight chill in the early morning air and Margo wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. Her dark hair was tucked behind her ears, the short cut softened by a few erratic layers that framed her dark large round-shaped almost black eyes. Margo had been always complimented on her cocoa coloured curvy figure and dark hair and eyes, courtesy of her father’s African American heritage and her mother's contrasting lily-white skin and fair features. The resulting blend of their only daughter drew envious glances wherever she went.

A few people even now, this early in the morning, passed her and called out cheerful and admiring greetings, and Margo grumbled in response. She was only on her second cup of coffee for the morning and her mood hadn't had a chance to warm up to her usual, over the top self. 

The sound of the foliage being crushed under Margo’s boots with each of her purposeful steps was both satisfying and therapeutic. But then the sound and what it represented made her pause. It was the first day of fall, she realized with a start as she eyed the changing colours of the tall trees framing the buildings on either side of her.

Fall meant change. 

Fall meant her marriage to Lawson Sanders, the Boston born investor who had bought her theatre last Summer, had lasted nearly a year. How on earth they had managed it she had no idea.

Her thoughts became chaotic and hectic as they always did when she thought of her husband, and so with a brief frown at her wedding ring sparkling on her finger, she pushed Lawson out of her head and tried to concentrate on the latest disaster to hit her drama troupe. The fall play was in its final rehearsals and last week the main actor had decided to quit for a more lucrative offer in Boston. Margo understood - the small community theatre of her small beachside town of Rockson Bay - wasn't exactly a place where stars, or money for that matter, were made. But it had put the whole production in a spin and Margo just had to hope the young understudy, who was sorely lacking in confidence, could pull off the last-minute change. 

Margo saw the theatre come into view on Main Street and as she always did she took a moment to admire it. The Rockson Bay Playhouse was housed in one of the oldest buildings in the area. The beautiful red brick of the facade encased large white glass pane windows that rose three stories high. The roof was arched and adorned with intricate marble details that showed its once magnificent history and importance to the town. Even now as Margo eyed the windows that really needed a clean, and a cluster of bricks that were chipped and needed replacing, she knew it wouldn't take much for the old building to be bought back to its former glory. 

With a wistful sigh, Margo entered the foyer and went straight through to the theatre. She could hear the actors running through a rehearsal as she entered the double swinging doors and she started to breathe a little easier as she felt the familiarity and comfort of her favourite place in the world wash over her.

Margo! 

Margo stopped as she heard her name being hissed. She looked over and saw Owen, the lighting technician, sitting in his booth and waving madly at her. She walked over and smiled, the caffeine finally kicking in and smoothing out her morning’s prickly and quick-tempered mood.

Owen, what is it? She asked, expecting some drama with the lighting or equipment.

Your husband is here, Owen said in the same urgent low tone he had used to call her over. 

What? Margo froze. Her coffee induced good mood evaporated instantly and she scowled. Her foot started tapping furiously on the deep red carpeted floor.

Lawson was meant to be in Boston. She had only talked to him yesterday and he had said very clearly he wouldn't be back in Rockson Bay for another three weeks. He was working on a merger between two small companies and it was keeping him busier than usual. Which had suited her just fine. During their nine-month marriage, Lawson had spent most of it commuting back and forth between Rockson Bay and Boston for business, and he usually ended up staying in his Boston penthouse for convenience, often for weeks a time. 

Owen pointed to the stage. He has been here all morning waiting for you.

Great. Thanks. Margo turned stiffly and stomped down the stairs. She saw Lawson on the side of the stage, laughing with one of the stagehands. At the sight of him, she nearly stalled for a moment but she made herself maintain her speed.

When she had first met Lawson she wouldn't have immediately called him attractive. She had always been drawn to dark-haired men whose personalities were just as lively and extroverted as her. Lawson had swept into her life in pressed pants, a button-down shirt and an uptight and arrogant temperament that had grated with her almost at once. But she had to admit over the past nine months, his copper, almost strawberry blonde, hair, uneven features and eyes that could seem to drill a hole into you, now stirred something in her at an increasing regularity she did not like. At all. It wasn't anger or annoyance anymore like had it had been at the beginning. It was now edging on something deep and raw that she refused to acknowledge as she reached his position on the stage.

What the hell are you doing here? She shouted, causing everyone around them to raise their heads. There was a collective groan and sigh as they saw Margo march up to Lawson and face off with him. A few of them scattered, probably knowing the drama that was about to unfold. The rehearsal ground to a halt and it made Margo even angrier as she looked at the person responsible for it. 

Hello, darling. Lawson drawled, sending her one of his usual dry irritated expressions. Have you missed me? 

Like hell I have. Margo shook her head. You aren't supposed to be here today. 

I couldn't stay away. Your sparkling personality gets me hot every time. 

I didn't think anything could get you hot in that stupid button-down shirt of yours. 

Lawson clenched his jaw and caught the ends of her scarf. He wrapped them around his hands, used them to yank her into him, and then his mouth slammed down onto hers in an angry kiss. It wasn't anything new. He always did this, taking out his frustration with her in the most personal way he was allowed to.

It no longer surprised or overwhelmed her like it used to, so Margo was prepared and she instantly gave back as good as she got, opening her mouth and claiming him with her angry tongue as she grabbed the aforementioned stupid button-down shirt and let her nails dig into his chest through the fabric. He swore into her mouth, his mouth tensing on hers, and she smiled in satisfaction when he pulled away roughly and drew in a few deep breaths. 

Now what are you really doing here, Lawson? She asked, lowering her voice so only he could hear her. Don't play games with me now we are so close to the end. Because you know damned well as much as I do that at the end of fall this fake marriage is over and you are giving me what you promised. 

Lawson studied her with stormy grey eyes and his mouth lifted in a humourless smile. Well, my lovely wife,  I need to talk to you. There might be a problem with that. 

 ....

Margo drove into the turning circle of her large modern house high in the hills above Rockson Bay a few hours later and rested her head on the steering wheel. She took a few quick calming breaths. Lawson would be inside waiting for her and she could finally force out of him just exactly what he had meant by his cryptic words at the theatre.

To her utter frustration, he had dropped his bombshell and then his phone had rung, and he had sauntered away saying he needed to take it and he would meet her at home after the rehearsal had finished. By ‘home’ he meant the property Margo had inherited from her parents after their death in a car accident six years ago.

After the marriage, she had refused his offer to purchase an apartment for them in Boston or even anything else in Rockson Bay. This was her home and she refused to leave. Lawson had reluctantly moved in and he stayed here whenever he came to town to keep up appearances. He always stayed in one of the guest rooms and it hadn't been as terrible as she first thought it would be. The house was big enough that Margo sometimes hardly even saw him during the weeks he was there.

Margo grabbed her purse, locked the car and hurried inside. It was early afternoon now and the sun was casting a warm golden hue over the front living areas as she found Lawson in the living room staring into the fireplace at a fire he had apparently created not too long ago. The heat in the room was pleasant after the chill of the early evening outside but still, Margo became slightly irritated with him for just taking over the house like he always seemed to do every time he was here.

Margo also noted the half-empty glass of amber liquid he was nursing. She had been surprised when they were first married when Lawson had turned out to be a very liberal drinker. He never over-indulged or let himself get intoxicated, but he usually had some sort of hard liquor in his glass every evening. She checked her watch now though with a frown, noting it was early even for Lawson to be drinking.

What are you doing? She asked, throwing her bag onto the chaise by the bay window. I don't light the fire during this time of the year. It's only just turned to September for heaven sake. She gave him a disapproving look. And it's a bit early to be drinking scotch don't you think? 

Lawson turned and let his eyes sweep over her. He held her gaze as he deliberately lifted his glass and slowly took another deep swallow of his drink. I was hoping the alcohol would drown out your ability to complain and argue with everything I seem to do. He put the glass down and smiled bitterly. But I guess that would be too much to ask for. 

Margo crossed her arms over herself. I don't complain and argue with everything you do. At his arched eyebrow, she rolled her eyes. Okay, so maybe I do. But you should just stop giving me reasons to be so disagreeable then if it annoys you so much.

Lawson took a languid step toward her. And what reasons could I give you to soften up towards me? What would finally make Margo Coleman agreeable hmm? His usually cool eyes, the perfect match for the sea when roiled up from a storm, had a tiny lick of heat in them. And his use of her maiden name - she had taken his when they had married of course - irked her. 

Margo instinctively took a step back, unsure of his intentions and even more so of her body’s uncurling interest to the sudden strange atmosphere in the room. She shook her head to clear it and said firmly. Nothing. Nothing you could do would ever make me agreeable. Now tell me why you are here. I've had enough mind games for one day.

Lawson rocked back on his heels and his face closed over. The flicker of that new intent in his eyes disappeared. Fine. Take a seat. 

Margo unwrapped her scarf and sat on one of the couches facing him. Lawson turned and picked up a glass of wine from the drink tray and handed it to her. She accepted it silently, knowing it would be one of her favourites. He had somehow worked out within a few days of the wedding what she liked to drink after a long day at the theatre and now he always had a glass ready for her when she got home. She had never questioned him on the uncharacteristically thoughtful gesture and now it just seemed like an automatic routine he had established when he was home. 

Lawson sat opposite her and said without preamble. My parents are coming to stay here for some of the fall. 

Margo shot upright on the couch. What? Why? And when you say  ‘here' what do you mean? 

I mean here. In the guest suite. 

Margo swore and gripped Lawson’s shirt, pulling him into her. He didn't resist, his body compliant as Margo gripped him fiercely. They knew each other in a weird intimate way now, nine months of on and off living together making Margo uncomfortably familiar with his body as no doubt, he was just as familiar with hers. If the way he knew exactly how to kiss her to get the most reaction out of her now was any indication, he was definitely in tune with her body.

So he wouldn't miss the flash of fury in her eyes, or the coil of resentment unravelling through her. 

Lawson. She breathed with her forehead almost on his.

Margo. He returned evenly, unflinching in the face of her anger. 

Why the hell are your parents coming to stay here? You never asked me.

Lawson resisted her steel grip then and eased himself back a bit. Yes, I am aware of that. And I am sorry. I tried to talk them out of it believe me. 

Well, try again. Margo narrowed her eyes. Better yet just grow a backbone and tell them no. This isn't a bed and breakfast. It's my home.

Again, I am aware of that. Lawson’s voice was filled with irritation. Trust me. I don't want them here any more than you. But it's in your best interests to let them come and stay. 

But why? We are getting divorced in three months.

Well, they don't know that. And they have some... doubts. 

Doubts about what? 

About the marriage.

What about the marriage? 

Lawson sent her a withering look. You are not normally this dense. Doubts about whether we are really in love of course. I only get the theatre as part of my inheritance if I am in a true marriage remember? In a love match. 

Yes of course I remember. I am not likely to forget am I? Margo absorbed his words. A slight edge of alarm crept in. "Well, I thought they believed we were in love. I did a pretty damn good job of convincing them last time